


Birds of Prey

by Laura_Mayfair



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Community: bsg_kink, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Table Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 03:12:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3274559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_Mayfair/pseuds/Laura_Mayfair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People who want to kill one another make strange bedfellows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birds of Prey

**Author's Note:**

> Written for bsg-kink. The theme of the week was: "Let's write kink inspired by awkwardness! I'm talking either awkward situations or awkward things that shouldn't be hot but kind of are." Thanks to singerdiva01_sk's prompt, "Roslin/Zarek, they've both ordered each other killed." Also, a big thank you to her for suggesting line spacing / dialogue edits that helped immensely. =)

Laura Roslin had always reminded him of a hawk, and the comparison was even more apparent now as they circled one another in the empty chamber. She was every inch a predator and he’d seen enough of them in prison to know. 

Like calls to like. 

Sure she was subtler than most -- elegant even -- with her serene smile and mesmerizing voice, but that lyrical allure only made her more dangerous.

“You’re not even going to deny it,” said Tom, inching toward her.

“Why should I? You backed me into a corner. I had to.” 

There wasn’t a trace of remorse or regret in her tone, not that he’d expected it -- or deserved it. She stood her ground, unmoving, as he prowled toward her. She was so alert, so aware of him it was palpable. 

_Physical._

Gods, he felt it.

“So did I, Laura.”

She tipped her chin up, a posturing gesture that made her seem taller the way it elongated her neck. He knew every inch of the pale, smooth skin, knew it like it was etched into the marrow of his bones. 

“Ordering to have the President killed is an act of treason, Tom,” she lilted.

“Yes.” He moved another step closer. “Enlisting the might of your goon squad to unlawfully do away with your Vice President makes you a dictator. It’s a breach of everything you claim to stand for.”

She fixed her gaze on his mouth before letting her eyes roam downward -- a long, calculated survey of his person -- and then she worked her way back up.

“Maybe we’re even,” she mused, her voice husky. A strategic tilt of her head exposed more of her long neck. She took a step back toward the table but Tom knew it wasn’t because he’d intimidated her. The movement was too fluid, the subtle sway of her hips no accident.

It was an invitation.

He grabbed her and pushed her back against the table, holding her there with the weight of his body. His fingers were frantic and imprecise as he fumbled with the buttons of her blouse. 

She hissed at him when two of the fragile discs chimed against the floor but it didn’t slow him down. He trailed his hands all over the front of her body, panting against her mouth when he kissed her. She moaned and arched against him, nipping at his lip and clawing at his back. He sucked and nibbled her neck the way he’d always wanted to but hadn’t dared, careless now about whether or not he left a mark. He undid his belt and tugged his zipper down, pushing his groin into her. 

She slid a hand inside his pants but there was so little space between them she had almost no room to maneuver. He was already painfully hard anyway and didn’t need any extra stimulation. 

He just wanted inside her.

The table was too high so he hoisted her up onto it and climbed on top of her. He pulled up her skirt, yanked her panties down, and pressed the head of his cock against her folds. She was soaking wet. With one thrust, he drove into her. She spurred him to an almost brutal pace with her throaty moans and with the sharp little gasps she made each time he pushed in. 

She’d feel this tomorrow -- he wanted her to.

It wasn’t long before her walls tightened around him and her soft cries rose to a fevered pitch. He came hard then, his body still shaking well after the final thrust.

He rolled off of her and they lay side by side for a minute, both catching their breath. Tom laid a hand against her arm. When she didn’t pull away, he turned his body so he could face her. She sat up and eased her way off the table. He followed.

“I’m too old for this,” he mumbled, putting himself back together. He watched Laura pull her jacket over her ruined blouse. She threw him a look, which he was pretty sure was a reproach for her missing buttons. When she slipped a foot back into one of her stilettos, she faltered a little and Tom steadied her. Their eyes met.

He grinned at her. “We are a pair, aren’t we?” He brushed a red curl away from her cheek. “We’re too much alike, you know. You may not want to admit, it but that’s the problem.”

“The problem,” she flared, looking at him like he possessed the intelligence of a gnat, “is that you’ve just cost me another blouse, Tom.”


End file.
